


Be My Satellite

by bar2d2s



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Always Remember: a drunk yes is a sober maybe, Disabled Character, Drinking, F/F, F/M, M/M, Oral Sex, Veterans, consent is sexy y'all, only tagging characters that get more than just namedropped because I'm not a monster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-23 15:49:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14335830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bar2d2s/pseuds/bar2d2s
Summary: Alex owns a coffee shop. Zeb helps organize protests. They have a surprising number of things in common.A corrupt and uncaring government, many groups of people allied with the common goal of changing things for the better...real life can be a lot like Star Wars, sometimes. I'm at the coffee shop AU. I'm at the military veteran AU. I'm at the combination coffee shop and military veteran AU.





	Be My Satellite

He likes to give his regulars little nicknames.

It’s a silly, almost immature thing to do, but Kallus is pushing 40 and he works 60 hours a week in his goddamn locally-owned coffee shop in Washington DC. Simple pleasures like this are one of the few things that keep him from going absolutely insane.

He’d started doing it little by little, around the time an Asian girl with blue hair who used the shop as a meeting place for her and her terminally-late girlfriend kept turning up.  _Two black coffees and a blueberry muffin_ , the same order every time. Then she’d get out her sketchpad, which was later upgraded to one of those fancy drawing tablets about a year after he’d started noticing her, and settle in to wait. Half an hour later or more, another Asian girl with dark skin would rush in, blathering excuses about a missed bus, a late class, everything under the sun. Blue Hair never seemed annoyed with Lateness, as if she was more than used to this by now.

Blue Hair and Lateness eventually started bringing another couple to the shop, a woman in a hijab and her blind, bearded fiance. The woman had a beautiful lilt in her voice and from occasional eavesdropping, he eventually figured out that she was from Quebec. She mostly ordered a variety of teas, and while her fiance was another coffee fan, he leaned more towards their flavored cappuccinos. So naturally in his head, the pair of them were French Press and Vanilla.

The Big Guy had wandered into the shop while no one was there, looked around, then walked back outside to make a phone call. A few minutes later he was back in, striding back up to the counter as he scrolled through his phone.

“Right, sorry ‘bout that. Can I get a-” He squinted at his phone, then rolled his eyes. “Two black coffees, a vanilla cappuccino, and,” He lifted up his hand, doing little air quotes, “’The biggest cup of Earl Grey they’re legally allowed to sell me.’“ They both snorted, almost in unison, and the Big Guy grinned. “Wasn’t sure I had the right place at first, but I guess you know who that one’s for, eh?”

“Mm, I believe so. Quebecois Muslim woman?” The Big Guy blinked, as if surprised that Kallus could remember his customers in such detail. “Anything for you?” The Big Guy scratched his bearded chin.

“Got any hot chocolate? Kinda nippy out.” He’d been trying to place the accent, but the turn of phrase capped it. The man was  _definitely_  Australian, possibly Aboriginal from the looks of him.

Kallus gave him a total, then went to go prepare the drinks. He started with the Big Guy’s hot chocolate, looking him over as the other man stared out the window. He really was  _huge_ , well over six feet tall. Possibly even close to seven. And quite handsome. Kallus blinked, the thought startling him.

Well then.  _That_  hadn’t happened in a while.

No sooner had he handed over the Big Guy’s drink, Lateness burst through the door. Hm, that was unusual.

“Zeb,  _tell_  her that she’s gonna get arrested.” Lateness begged, while behind her, Blue Hair shook her head. The Big Guy took a slow sip of his hot chocolate, licked the whip cream off his upper lip.

“I’m not sure what you’re planning now, Bean, but if Suzie says you’re set to land yourself in jail, I believe her.” Lateness grabbed their coffees off the counter with a brisk nod to Kallus, handing one to Blue Hair.

Kallus tried not to eavesdrop further, serving other customers as French Press and Vanilla’s drinks sat cold and untouched on the counter but after a full hour, the little group started to actively seem worried about their friends.

“-called her  _five times_  and nothing. Hera  _always_  picks up.” Blue Hair was saying, texting rapidly. They shouldn’t have been so quick to panic, though, as another small group soon entered, the missing pair at the head.

“Sabine,  _please_  stop blowing up my phone. We lost track of time.” French Press was walking slowly, Vanilla at her elbow as usual. Behind them was an older Muslim woman, this one wearing an al-amira instead of a hijab, and a much older bald man. Bringing up the rear was a teenage boy, whose eyes darted nervously around the shop. “You all remember Ahsoka and Rex. And this is Ezra, he’s staying with them for a little while.”

“What  _kept_  you? I was about to send out a mass alert!” French Press laughed softly, patting Blue Hair on the arm.

“I assure you, we’re fine. No one even looked twice at us.”

There was an entire conversation in the look that passed between French Press and Blue Hair, but Kallus would never know what it meant. It wasn’t his place to ask, or even to eavesdrop. It wasn’t like he was their friend.

He just made their drinks.

Speaking of- “Ah, let me remake these, they’re cold.” French Press smiled gratefully at him, pulling a twenty from her purse.

“You’re too kind. And while I have you, a green tea and large decaf coffee for my friends? Milk in both, if you please.” She put the change in the tip jar, almost thirteen dollars. For the first time, he wondered what she did for work. Blue Hair and Lateness were college students, but French Press and her fiance were fully-minted adults. Was their work dangerous? Maybe they were spies for the Canadian government.

Kallus snorted to himself, then set about washing out the carafes and brewing new pots of coffee before the mid-afternoon rush hit. Every now and then, he’d look over towards the corner of the shop where the group had set up camp. They seemed to be planning something, and he was curious as to what it could be. The last time he glanced at them, however, the Big Guy was looking back at him. He smiled slow beneath the beard, surprisingly bright white teeth bared.

 _Hi_ , he mouthed, while his friends were engrossed in something Ahsoka was saying. For some reason, Kallus found himself flushed, embarrassed. He didn’t look over again.

***

After that day, Kallus started seeing the Big Guy in the shop almost as much as he saw the girls and Vanilla. Rex and Ahsoka soon became regulars, as well. Kallus felt odd trying to give them nicknames, since he knew their real ones before ever getting to see them as customers, so after a few visits, he stopped.

Ahsoka was an incredibly tall woman, only slightly shorter than her husband. She was soft-spoken, yet every time she said anything, whether she was talking to him or not, Kallus wanted to listen. She too preferred tea to coffee, though once she’d learned that he was able to make matcha lattes, she’d started ordering those, as well. Rex was a direct man with a very specific coffee order, and if he wasn’t so damned charming, Kallus would probably hate him on principle. Rex had sensitive teeth, and couldn’t drink things that were too hot  _or_  too cold. He carried his own drink thermometer for heaven’s sake! But he also made little self-depreciating jokes and openly doted on his wife, so all the good about him far outweighed the bad.

Ezra came in too, from time to time. Mostly on his way home from school. He didn’t like coffee or tea, grabbing one of the fancy bottled sodas from the case on the wall and a pastry before heading out again. He always walked alone, and Kallus felt sorry for the kid. But what did he know, maybe none of his friends lived in the same direction. He seemed nice enough, he was probably  _swimming_  in friendly people at school.

Not that Kallus could judge.

“You need to get out more, Alex.” His therapist had told him, scolded him one session, after he confessed that he hadn’t done much more than work and sleep in two months. “Having me be your sole source of social interaction isn’t healthy.”

And he  _knew_  that. But he also had to be up every morning to open the shop, and it’s not like he drank much anymore, though bars weren’t the only place in the world to meet new people. Not to mention that his old service buddies weren’t exactly banging down his door to hang out...and that making new friends was hard...

 _Bang_.

Kallus was pulled violently from his thoughts by the sound of the door slamming open, and he instinctively dropped to the ground. A large body hurdled over the counter, crouching beside him.

It was the Big Guy.

“You okay?” He hissed and when Kallus nodded, the Big Guy grabbed him by the shoulder, hauling him up before crouching down again. “Good! I’m not here!”

But before Kallus could ask what the  _hell_  was going on, in ran a cop.

“Sir, did a tall man pass by here a minute ago?” Working hard not to glance down and give away the Big Guy’s position, Kallus shook his head.

“No, officer. Is something going on?” Looking out the window, he suddenly noticed the ruckus in the streets. There was supposed to be another protest today, he’d been hearing about it for a week now. People had kept stopping in with signs, too. God, he really  _had_  been out of it.

“Ah, you know how it is. Buncha kids picketing out there, it got a little wild. The guy I’m looking for though, he punched a fellow officer. Can’t let  _that_  go viral on YouTube.” There was more to the story, he knew it, but he could get the details later. Lying to the police...the Big Guy was gonna owe him.

“Oh, that’s no good.” He replied mildly, leaning on the counter. His leg was aching from his drop earlier. “Best of luck finding him, though.” The cop nodded, then left the store. Immediately, Kallus glared down at the Big Guy, who was snickering behind his hands. “You  _punched_  a  _cop_?” He shouted, though quietly. Who knew if the other cop was still in the area. The Big Guy shrugged.

“He’d grabbed Ketsu.” Ketsu. Suzie.  _Lateness_. “Then Sabine whacked him with her sign,” Sabine. Bean.  _Blue Hair_. “And he sprayed her. So I punched him.” He shrugged. “Can’t let that shit happen to my friend, y’know?”

 _She’s gonna get herself arrested_. 

“Who  _are_  you?” Kallus asked, suspicious. The Big Guy stuck out his hand cheerfully, using Kallus as leverage as he got back to his feet instead of shaking when he took it.

“Name’s Zeb. My friends and I organize protests. You wanna get dinner?”

Kallus eyed him warily. Sure the Big Guy, Zeb, was a regular, but he had also just used his shop to hide from the police. Still...Zeb seemed nervous, as though asking him out had been a riskier move than being a fugitive from the law. The way he was chewing on his lower lip, eyes darting between Kallus’ face and the floor...it was almost sort of  _cute_. 

What could Kallus say, other than yes?

 _Oh, my therapist is going to have a field day with this_.

***

When Zeb had said ‘get dinner’, Kallus had assumed that he’d meant the two of them, alone. Instead a few hours later, once Kallus had closed up shop, they’d caught a bus north to Georgetown. A short walk later, they were in front of a house.

“Is this where you murder me?” Kallus asked dryly, and Zeb laughed.

“Nah, we usually meet back up here after a march. All our non-temp phones are here.” He pulled a cracked burner phone out of his pocket. “I sorta...broke mine earlier, so they’ve probably sent out an alert for me.”

Huh. There was more organization to this protest stuff than it seemed. 

When they walked in the front door, Zeb was almost immediately surrounded by people. Some Kallus recognized as customers of his, but others he didn’t. Words like  _arrested_  and  _hospital_  and  _morgue_  were flying around, but Zeb laughed off his friends’ concern.

“I’m fine! I spent the whole time hiding under coffee guy’s counter!”  _Coffee guy?!_

“Zeb, you’re so rude. Didn’t you even ask his name?” French Press scolded, cuffing him on the ear. She then turned to Kallus, smiling at him. She was wearing a green hijab today, and her lipstick matched it. “Thank you for bringing Zeb back to us, and welcome to the party..?”

“Kallus.” He replied automatically, then shook his head. “Ah, sorry. Alex. Old habits.”

“It’s alright, I understand. Hera.” French Press said, tapping her own chest, then starting to point out the people closest to her. “Over there is Kanan,”  _Vanilla_. “With our neighbors, Ahsoka and Rex. Sabine had a bit of an incident with the police earlier, that’s her on the couch with Ketsu and Ezra." Sabine was letting the two of them fuss over her, smiling beneath the wet towel draped over her eyes. "Rounding out the room we’ve got Wedge and Derek, that’s them coming out of the kitchen  _with my good mugs don’t you dare go put them back_ , and Sabine’s brother Tristan is around here somewhere. We’ve got food and drinks, so please help yourself.”

With Zeb otherwise occupied, Kallus decided to get himself something to eat. There were quite a few vegetable trays on the large dining table, as well as a decently-sized sandwich platter. He picked up a sandwich, as well as several carrot and celery sticks.

“If you’re looking for pork or wings, they’re in the kitchen.” A voice said behind him, and Kallus almost jumped. “Most everyone here doesn’t eat pork, but someone new almost always shows up hoping for a ham sandwich.” He turned to see Ezra, unglued from Sabine’s side and picking nervously at the hem of his shirt. He suddenly realized that this was the first time he’d ever heard Ezra speak.

“Thank you, but I’m set with this.” They looked at each other for a moment, but soon Kallus’ leg  _really_  began to ache, and he felt the need to sit down. “If I could just-”

“You’re ex-military too, right? Zeb said you hit the ground like you had a magnet in your shirt when he ran in.” They walked to the kitchen together, where Kallus could spy a few high-top chairs.

“Yes, I was a Marine, once. Wait. Too..?”

It was like he’d pulled the stopper in a tub. Apparently, almost everyone in the room had been in the service at one time or another, either for the USA or another country. Sabine and Ketsu had enlisted to help pay for school, but were discharged less than honorably. Apparently, both had similar issues with authority. Kanan had actually served in the army, and was honorably discharged after being blinded in combat. Rex had served in the New Zealand Defense Force years ago, as an airman. Ahsoka had been a Marine. Zeb had been an officer, in the Australian army. They had all met, by luck or by chance, and decided that there had to be a better way to change a country than shooting at it.

Kallus sat back in his chair, a carrot stick dangling from his mouth.

“So you all just...protest all the time?” Ezra shrugged.

“There’s more than just the demonstrations. We raise awareness for different causes through social media campaigns. There’s a lot of folks in different parts of the country who started off with us. With them.” Kallus raised a brow, looking down at the boy.

“And your parents just let you do this? Hang around with radicals at all hours of the night?” Ezra’s face crumpled, and he suddenly remembered-

 _This is Ezra, he’s staying with them for a little while_.

“I’m sorry.” He said softly, but Ezra wouldn’t look up at him. “That was out of line.”

“Why are you an  _ex_ -Marine?” Ezra fired back at him, and Kallus sighed. Low blow, but he deserved it for reminding the kid of his jailed (dead?) parents. Leaning forward, he rolled up his left pant leg. Ezra’s eyes widened.

“I lost a leg in Afghanistan about 15 years ago.” Kallus said, tapping at his upper thigh, about six inches from where his knee used to be. “Well, most of one. I’ve still got maybe ten inches of thigh, but the foot, calf, knee...that’s all gone.”

Physical therapy had been hell, but he was determined not to be chair-bound for the rest of his life. “After my discharge, I decided to use the money my grandfather had left me to open a business. I’m not broke yet, so I must be doing something right.” There was a low whistle from the kitchen doorway, where Zeb and a few new arrivals were standing. Without realizing it, he’d drawn a crowd.

“Story like that calls for a drink, if ever I’ve heard one.” He declared, shoving an open beer into Kallus’ hand. He didn’t recognize the brand, but drank it anyway.

The night got hazier from there.

Hera’s house got more and more packed as the hours marched on, with people coming to collect their belongings, some directly after being bailed out of jail. Kallus distinctly remembered meeting a pair of teens he was  _fairly sure_  belonged to the senator of California. He also remembered someone yelling  _isn’t this supposed to be a party_  and cranking Hera’s fairly impressive sound system to near-maximum, her turning it down some, and someone else putting it right back up. He also remembered the majority of his conversations up through the third beer...and then someone named Hondo had shown up with what was  _definitely_  bathtub moonshine, and suddenly he was pressed up against the closed bathroom door, with Zeb mouthing at his neck.

“Are teens drinking moonshine?” He gasped, and heard a deep chuckle somewhere around his collarbone.

“Give us more credit, we ID more than most of the bars around here. Hera sent the sprogs across to Ahsoka’s ages ago, it’s just the grown-ups embarrassing ourselves at this party now. Nice falsetto, by the way.” Oh, god.

 _Rock Band_.

He was going to wake up tomorrow morning either a viral video sensation, or excommunicated from something, he knew it.

“Why are we in the bathroom?” Kallus tried again, hanging onto those last two working brain cells for dear life. Zeb’s hands, which had been unbuttoning his shirt, suddenly stopped.

“You’re really out of it, huh?” He asked softly, drawing a nail down over Kallus’ cheek, following the line of his sideburns to his chin. “Okay, this is me tapping out, then.”

They were both desperately hard, Kallus could feel it where Zeb was pressed against him, and he whined when the taller man pulled away. “But-”

“A drunk yes is a sober maybe at best.” Zeb replied, starting to button Kallus’ shirt back up. “It took me this long to work up the courage to ask you out, I can wait.”

“You were really that nervous?” Kallus had thought it had been an act. He knew he sounded dazed, but the way Zeb’s hands felt as they smoothed down his shirt were too nice to just ignore for the sake of a conversation.

“Well, you’re  _very_  sexy, in that flustered, serious kind of way.” Zeb batted at his hands, which were trying very hard to work their way underneath his shirt. “That first time I went to your shop, I had to leave to call Sabine, to yell at her for not warning me the barista was so  _hot_.” Oh, was that why he’d left that day? Kallus grabbed one of the hands that was determinedly refusing to let him  _touch_  and brought it up to his mouth, nipping at the pads of his fingers. Zeb made a choking sound, his hips surging forwards. “And that was, oh, fuck. That was before you  _blushed_  when I caught you looking over at us. Okay. Seriously. Stop now.”

There was an authoritative tone in Zeb’s voice, one that Kallus had spent a good handful of years instinctively obeying. The fingers fell from his mouth. Zeb was looking down at him now, closer than ever but not  _touching_  him. Not  _kissing_  him. Maybe this was some kind of initiation.

“So here’s what we’re gonna do. The party wound down ages ago, and I know everyone wants to go to bed. We’re going to help clean up some. We’re going to gather up a few bottles of water and some aspirin. We’re going to go to my room-”

“You live here?” Kallus asked, and Zeb dragged his hand down his face.

“I’m going to  _personally_  throw the rest of Hondo’s devil-water down a drain.” He muttered, then leaned down to gently kiss Kallus’ forehead. “You poor thing, you’re gonna wake up dead tomorrow. Anyway. Water. Aspirin. My room. Sleep. You got someone who can open for you tomorrow?” Kallus nodded. “Good. Because you’re staying here, and I’m making you waffles after you inevitably throw up.”

“I’m a grown man.” Kallus protested. He didn’t need to be  _babied_. “I pay taxes.”

And then he blacked out.

***

The sun was a demonic entity. The sun was the root of all evil.

The sun was shining directly on his face, stabbing him in the eyes and permanently blinding him because it hated him  _personally_.

“Nooo...” Kallus moaned, rolling away from the evil day star and faceplanting directly into a wide, furry chest. He blinked. This wasn’t his bed.

This wasn’t his  _house_.

“I’m late for work.” He croaked, attempting to sit up. Strong arms covered in swirls and stripes of tattoos pulled him back down.

“You’re not opening this morning, some kid already called about it.” An open bottle of water was placed in his hands, and he chugged it greedily. “Hope you don’t mind, but I sort of, ah...” Zeb gestured down at him. Kallus was lacking a shirt, pants.

A leg.

“Oh, god.” He moaned again, curling over the water bottle. Zeb lurched out of bed, alarmed.

“Should I not have? I didn’t know if you slept in it or- I’m sorry, I’ll just-” He tripped over his own feet in his rush to retrieve Kallus’ leg, landing back on the bed with a loud thump. “Sorry.”

The water bottle was empty, so Kallus didn’t feel bad about squashing it as he bent completely forwards, his face hitting the mattress. Well, there went the chances of  _this_  going anywhere. “No,  _I’m_  sorry. I shouldn’t have drunk so much. I’ll go.”

“But...I promised you waffles.” Kallus did a little push-up off the bed, looking at Zeb incredulously. 

“I have one and a quarter legs, and you’ve seen them both.” He said slowly, and Zeb shrugged.

“So?”

Since the accident, Kallus had had exactly one intimate encounter with another person. It had been horrible and embarrassing. He’d had a number of first dates, which hadn’t led to a second once his would-be partners had learned of his disability. Or, in several cases, hadn’t led to a second once his would-be partners had seemed a bit  _too_  excited about his disability. Zeb had refused to sleep with him while he was drunk in case he regretted it, gotten him nearly naked before their first actual date, and was now offering him waffles.

Kallus began to laugh. He laughed until he cried. Zeb took this as a good sign, fetching his leg for him, watching in fascination as he put it back on. The prosthesis wasn’t particularly fancy, but that didn’t matter. It was part of him, now. According to his watch, which Zeb  _hadn’t_  taken off him, it was around seven in the morning.

“Would anyone be up if I were to go to the bathroom like this?” He waved a hand down his body, clothed only in his boxers, and Zeb’s eyes followed.

“Nah,” he said eventually, shaking out of the stupor he seemed to have fallen into. “Hera wakes up early, but not on weekends.” He checked anyway, though. What a gentleman.

Once Kallus had returned to Zeb’s bedroom, they stared at each other. No, that wasn’t right. They  _took inventory_  of each other, more like.

“It’s a bit too early to start on waffles, I think.” Zeb said, the look in his eyes pinning Kallus to the closed door. And then Zeb’s body was there, doing the same thing. “Your head still killing you?” 

“Yes, both of them.” Zeb laughed out loud, then dropped to his knees. He squeezed Kallus’ thighs, actually able to span the width of them with his big hands. This  _man_.

“Hot, successful, and  _funny_. Oh yes, I am  _definitely_  hanging onto you.”

And then Zeb was ripping down his boxers with his  _teeth_.

He lasted almost an embarrassingly short time. Longer than he’d expected, after a solid decade-plus of  _nothing_ , but still shorter than he’d have liked. And Zeb had  _swallowed_ , which had blown his mind to an entirely new level.

"I can’t kneel on the floor.” Was the first thing he could think to say, when his brain finally resumed working order. Zeb chuckled, sounding hoarse.

“Wouldn’t ask you to.” He replied, standing. He looked embarrassed for a moment, then grabbed Kallus’ hand, bringing it to the front of his shorts. Wow that was a massive...wet patch. “Guess we were both a little too eager. We’ll get better with practice, though.” Kallus laughed, but it wasn’t cruel.

“They say it takes ten thousand hours of practice to master something.” He teased, pulling Zeb against him again. “I’m up for it if you are.” They kissed leisurely, until Zeb’s stomach started to growl. “Waffles?”

“You read my mind.”

***

The smell of breakfast slowly roused the rest of the house’s residents, with them wandering in and out of the kitchen in various states of undress. No one seemed phased to see Kallus there.

“Good morning, Alex.” Hera said around a yawn, helping herself to a few of the mini-waffles Zeb had made, sitting across from him at the small table. The kitchen table only had four chairs, so when Sabine and Kanan both appeared a few minutes later, an argument broke out.

“I got here first!”

“Well, I’m old and you’re supposed to respect your elders.”

“ _You’re twenty-nine_.” 

Kallus blinked. Twenty-nine? Maybe it was the beard, but he’d thought Kanan was older than that. In his early thirties, at least. He nudged Zeb’s foot under the table. “Hey, how old are you?” He asked quietly. Zeb swallowed his food.

“Gonna be forty-three next month, why?” Kallus shrugged.

“Just curious.”

After breakfast, they all pitched in to clean up the house. As Kallus and Sabine lugged the recycling bags down to the curb, she took the opportunity to give him his first ever shovel talk. Sort of.

“You’re gonna end up falling for him, just warning you now.” She said, and he almost laughed. Then he saw that she was serious. “He’s crazy about you, and he’s probably gonna do a bunch of bogan shit to try and impress you, ‘cause he can be dumb like that. But he’s also really smart, and really sensitive, and-” She heaved her bag of cans into the recycling bin. “If you even  _think_  you’re capable of hurting him, you bow out before you get the chance to. Got it?” Kallus threw his own bag into the bin with considerably less effort.

“Got it.”

***

By mid-afternoon, Kallus had come to the realization that if he didn’t leave this house now, he probably wouldn’t ever. It was a Saturday. He’d called in two of his employees to take over his afternoon and evening shifts, and the shop always opened at noon on Sunday. He and Zeb were watching one of Sabine’s terrible jump scare-filled horror movies in the living room, talking about this and that during the boring parts. Zeb was laying down on the couch, his head in Kallus’ lap, legs hanging over the side. It  _couldn’t_  be comfortable, but he seemed content.

And that was when Kallus had  _known_  that Sabine was right.

“You’re trouble.” He murmured, glancing down at Zeb fondly. Zeb grinned up at him.

“Maybe, but I’m definitely the kind of trouble you don’t want to get out of.” They laughed. Onscreen, the hapless male protagonist’s best friend was stabbed to death. The leading lady screamed.

Kallus knew he had to leave eventually, but not yet. Not yet.


End file.
